For him the greatest of the gods we deeme,
Borne without syre or couples of one kynd;
For Venus selfe doth soly couples seeme,
Both male and female through commixture ioynd:
So pure and spotlesse Cupid forth she brought,
And in the Gardens of Adonis nurst:
Where growing he his owne perfection wrought, 805
And shortly was of all the gods the first.
Then got he bow and shafts of gold and lead,
In which so fell and puissant he grew,
That love himselfe his powre began to dread,
And, taking up to heaven, him godded new.
From thence he shootes his arrowes every where
Into the world, at randon as he will,
On us fraile men, his wretched vassals here,
Like as himselfe us pleaseth save or spill.
So we him worship, so we him adore
With humble hearts to heaven uplifted hie,
That to true loves he may us evermore
Preferre, and of their grace us dignifie :
Ne is there shepheard, ne yet shepheards swaine,
What ever feeds in forest or in field,
That dare with evil deed or leasing vaine
Blaspheme his powre, or termes unworthie yield."
"Shepheard, it seemes that some celestiall rage
Of love (quoth Cuddy) is breath'd into thy brest,
That powreth forth these oracles so sage
Of that high powre, wherewith thou art possest.
But never wist I till this present day,
Albe of Love I alwayes humbly deemed,
That he was such an one, as thou doest say,
And so religiously to be esteemed.
Well may it seeme, by this thy deep insight,
That of that god the priest thou shouldest bee:
So well thou wot'st the mysterie of his might,
As if his godhead thou didst present see.'
"Of Loves perfection perfectly to speake, Or of his nature rightly to define, Indeed (said Colin) passeth reasons reach, And needs his priest t' expresse his powre divine. For long before the world he was ybore, And bred above in Venus bosome deare: For by his powre the world was made of yore, And all that therein wondrous doth appeare. For how should else things so far from attone, And so great enemies as of them bee, Be ever drawne together into one, And taught in such accordance to agree? Through him the cold began to covet heat, And water fire; the light to mount on hie, And th' heavie downe to peize; the hungry t' eat, And voydnesse to seeke full satietie. So, being former foes, they wexed friends, And gan by litle learne to love each other: So, being knit, they brought forth other kynds Out of the fruitfull wombe of their great mother. Then first gan heaven out of darknesse dread For to appeare, and brought forth chearfull day: Next gan the earth to shew her naked head, Out of deep waters which her drownd alway: And, shortly after, everie living wight Crept forth like wormes out of her slimie nature. 860 Soone as on them the suns life-giving light Had powred kindly heat and formall feature, Thenceforth they gan each one his like to love, And like himselfe desire for to beget: The lyon chose his mate, the turtle dove Her deare, the dolphin his owne dolphinet; But man, that had the sparke of reasons might More then the rest to rule his passion,
Chose for his love the fairest in his sight,
Like as himselfe was fairest by creation:
For Beautie is the bayt which with delight
Doth man allure for to enlarge his kynd;
Beautie, the burning lamp of heavens light,
Darting her beames into each feeble mynd:
Against whose powre, nor God nor man can fynd
Defence, ne ward the daunger of the wound;
But, being hurt, seeke to be medicynd
Of her that first did stir that mortall stownd.
Then do they cry and call to Love apace,
With praiers lowd importuning the skie,
Whence he them heares; and, when he list shew
Does graunt them grace that otherwise would die.
So Love is lord of all the world by right,
And rules their creatures by his powrfull saw :
All being made the vassalls of his might,
Through secret sence which therto doth them draw.
Thus ought all lovers of their lord to deeme:
And with chaste heart to honor him alway:
But who so else doth otherwise esteeme,
Are outlawes, and his lore do disobay.
For their desire is base, and doth not merit
The name of love, but of disloyall lust:
Ne mongst true lovers they shall place inherit,
But as exuls out of his court be thrust."
So having said, Melissa spake at will;
"Colin, thou now full deeply hast divynd
Of Love and Beautie; and, with wondrous skill,
Hast Cupid selfe depainted in his kynd.
To thee are all true lovers greatly bound,
That doest their cause so mightily defend:
But most, all wemen are thy debtors found,
That doest their bountie still so much commend."
"That ill (said Hobbinol) they him requite,
For having loved ever one most deare:
He is repayd with scorne and foule despite,
That yrkes each gentle heart which it doth heare."
"Indeed (said Lucid) I have often heard
Faire Rosalind of divers fowly blamed
For being to that swaine too cruell hard;
That her bright glorie else hath much defamed. 9:0
But who can tell what cause had that faire Mayd
To use him so that used her so well;
Or who with blame can iustly her upbrayd,
For loving not for who can love compell?
And, sooth to say, it is foolhardie thing,
Rashly to wyten creatures so divine;
For demigods they be and first did spring
From heaven, though graft in frailnesse feminine.
And well I wote, that oft I heard it spoken,
How one, that fairest Helene did revile,
Through iudgement of the gods to been ywroken,
Lost both his eyes and so remaynd long while,
Till he recanted had his wicked rimes,
And made amends to her with treble praise.
Beware therefore, ye groomes, I read betimes, 925
How rashly blame of Rosalind ye raise."
For she is not like as the other crew
Of shepheards daughters which emongst you bee,
But of divine regard and heavenly hew,
Excelling all that ever ye did see.
Not then to her that scorned thing so base,
But to my selfe the blame that lookt so hie:
So hie her thoughts as she her selfe have place,
And loath each lowly thing with loftie eie.
Yet so much grace let her vouchsafe to grant
To simple swaine, sith her I may not love:
Yet that I may her honour paravant,
And praise her worth, though far my wit above.
Such grace shall be some guerdon for the griefe,
UPON THE DEATH OF THE MOST NOBLE AND VALOROUS KNIGHT, SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.
DEDICATED TO THE MOST BEAUTIFULL AND VERTUOUS LADIE, THE COUNTESS OF ESSEX.
SHEPHEARDS, that wont, on pipes of oaten reed, Oft times to plaine your loves concealed smart ; And with your piteous layes have learnd to breed Compassion in a countrey lasses hart: Hearken, ye gentle shepheards, to my song, And place my dolefull plaint your plaints emong.
To you alone I sing this mournfull verse,
The mournfullst verse that ever man heard tell :
To you whose softened hearts it may empierse
With dolours dart for death of Astrophel.
To you I sing and to none other wight,
For well I wot my rymes bene rudely dight.
Yet as they been, if any nycer wit
Shall hap to heare, or covet them to read:
Thinke he, that such are for such ones most fit,
Made not to please the living but the dead.
And if in him found pity ever place,
Let him be moov'd to pity such a case.
| Ne Spight it selfe, that all good things doth spill, Found ought in him, that she could say was ill.
His sports were faire, his ioyance innocent,
Sweet without sowre, and honny without gall :
And he himselfe seemd made for meriment,
Merily masking both in bowre and hall.
There was no pleasure nor delightfull play,
When Astrophel so ever was away.
For he could pipe, and daunce, and caroll sweet,
Emongst the shepheards in their shearing feast;
As somers larke that with her song doth greet
The dawning day forth comming from the East.
And layes of love he also could compose:
Thrise happie she, whom he to praise did chose.
Full many Maydens often did him woo,
Them to vouchsafe emongst his rimes to name,
Or make for them as he was wont to doo
For her that did his heart with love inflame.
For which they promised to dight for him
Gay chapelets of flowers and gyrlonds trim.
And many a Nymph both of the wood and brooke,
Soone as his oaten pipe began to shrill,
Both christall wells and shadie groves forsooke 15
Ah! where were ye this while his shepheard peares,
To whom alive was nought so deare as hee:
And ye faire Mayds, the matches of his yeares,
Which in his grace did boast you most to bee! 130
Ah! where were ye, when he of you had need,
To stop his wound that wondrously did bleed!
Ah! wretched boy, the shape of dreryhead,
And sad ensample of mans suddein end:
Full litle faileth but thou shalt be dead,
Unpitied, unplaynd, of foe or frend !
Whilest none is nigh, thine eylids up to close,
And kisse thy lips like faded leaves of rose.
A sort of shepheards sewing of the chace,
As they the forest raunged on a day,
By fate or fortune came unto the place,
Where as the lucklesse boy yet bleeding lay;
Yet bleeding lay, and yet would still have bled,
Had not good hap those shepheards thether led.
Untimely cropt, before it well were growne,
And cleane defaced in untimely howre.
Great losse to all that ever him did see,
Great losse to all, but greatest losse to mee!
Breake now your gyrlonds, O ye shepheards lasses,
Sith the faire flowre, which them adornd, is gon:
The flowre, which them adornd, is gone to ashes,
Never againe let lasse put gyrlond on.
In stead of gyrlond, weare sad Cypres nowe,
And bitter Elder, broken from the bowe.
Ne ever sing the love-layes which he made, Who ever made such layes of love as hee? Ne ever read the riddles, which he sayd Unto your selves, to make you mery glee. Your mery glee is now laid all abed, Your mery maker now alasse! is dead.
Death, the devourer of all worlds delight,
Hath robbed you, and reft fro me my ioy:
Both you and me, and all the world he quight
Hath robd of ioyance, and left sad annoy.
Ioy of the world, and shepheards pride was hee!
Shepheards, hope never like againe to see!
Oh Death! that hast us of such riches reft, Tell us at least, what hast thou with it done? What is become of him whose flowre here left Is but the shadow of his likenesse gone?
Scarse like the shadow of that which he was, Nought like, but that he like a shade did pas.
But that immortall spirit, which was deckt
With all the dowries of celestiall grace,
By soveraine choyce from th' hevenly quires select,
And lineally deriv'd from Angels race,
O! what is now of it become aread.
Ay me, can so divine a thing be dead?
Ah! no: it is not dead, ne can it die,
But lives for aie, in blisfull Paradise:
Where like a new-borne babe it soft doth lie,
In bed of lillies wrapt in tender wise;
And compast all about with roses sweet, And daintie violets from head to feet.
There thousand birds all of celestiall brood,
To him do sweetly caroll day and night;
And with straunge notes, of him well understood,
Lull him a sleep in ángelick delight;
Whilest in sweet dreame to him presented bee
Immortall beauties, which no eye may see.
But he them sees and takes exceeding pleasure
Of their divine aspects, appearing plaine,
And kindling love in him above all measure,
Sweet love still ioyous, never feeling paine.
For what so goodly forme he there doth see,
He may enioy from iealous rancor free.
There liveth he in everlasting blis,
Sweet Spirit never fearing more to die:
Ne dreading harme from any foes of his,
Ne fearing salvage beasts more crueltie.
Whilest we here, wretches, waile his private lack,
And with vaine vowes do often call him back.
But live thou there, still happie, happie Spirit,
And give us leave thee here thus to lament!
Not thee that doest thy heavens ioy inherit,
But our owne selves that here in dole are drent.
Thus do we weep and waile, and wear our eies,
Mourning, in others, our owne miseries.
WHICH When she ended had, another swaine
Of gentle wit and daintie sweet device,
Whom Astrophel full deare did entertaine,
Whilest here he liv'd, and held in passing price,
Hight Thestylis, began his mournfull tourne:
And made the Muses in his song to mourne.
And after him full many other moe,
As everie one in order lov'd him best,
Gan dight themselves t' expresse their inward woe,
With dolefull layes unto the time addrest.
The which I here in order will rehearse,
As fittest flowres to deck his mournfull hearse.
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